


4F

by MrBarnesIfYaNasty



Series: The 4F Verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Death, Disability, Disabled Character, Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Terminal Illnesses, Violence, george barnes is not a nice man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:30:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7903189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrBarnesIfYaNasty/pseuds/MrBarnesIfYaNasty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Bucky had been given the 4F status instead of Steve? How would things be different? </p>
<p>After a brutal street attack, Bucky and Steve's lives are changed forever. Things will never be the same again and, with the outbreak of war, it looks like things are going to get even more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4F

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my entry for the 2016 Stucky Big Bang! Apologies for anyone wanting more 'Ugliness', it's kinda of taken a back seat to this beast! 
> 
> It was a labor of love, greatly helped by Stevie, provider of helpful hints and awesome dialogue. Without you, this wouldn't even be a thing! GIT R DONE!

4F

"I can get by on my own"

"The thing is, you don't have to

4th July 1941

With a loud screech, another firework illuminated the sky in the distance. It looked as though the public display in the park was a good one this year. Normally Bucky and Steve would be down there, by their tree, in a quiet little nook away from the cheering crowds, maybe with a small picnic. This year however, they're on the roof of their apartment building. It was a small, boxed shaped building, years old with four storeys to it. It wasn't in the best decorative shape but it's cheap and quiet and served their purpose well. 

The other tenants in the building are either old or young couples with families so they can pretty much guarantee that nobody will disturb them. The bedroom window in their apartment leads up to the roof and since Steve moved in shortly after the death of his mother, they'd made the little rooftop, cluttered with old junk and pigeon shit, their place to get away from it all. A place where they could be each other without having to worry about what other people might say or do.

To the world they were Bucky and Steve, best friends since childhood, but to each other they were BuckyandSteve, forever joined together. Neither of them had intended to fall in love, it just sort of happened as most true love does. It had seemed the most natural thing in the world that one night when they'd fallen into each others arms after having more than a few drinks at their local bar. They'd shared kisses and touches, each one feeling foreign but, at the same time, like it was always meant to be. They'd woken up the following morning a tangle of limbs and a couple. They'd stayed that way ever since.   
“Hey Buck?” Steve turned to face Bucky in the glowing lights of the sky. His features were earnest. “You think the war's gonna come over here?” 

Bucky took a drag of his smoke, considering the question. With his left hand he slowly traced the line of Steve's bicep. With a good smoke, a couple of Coney Island hot dogs in his belly and his boyfriend at his side, it was hard to image something as serious as the war looming in their future.   
“Nah” He replied flippantly. “It's not our fight Stevie.” He added with a casual shrug. Which was true. It wasn't. The war was all the way over in Europe. Thousands of miles away.

“If it did though” Steve pressed. “Would you enlist?” 

“It's your birthday Stevie, what's with all the heavy shit?” Bucky replied, giving him a light punch on the arm, eager to change the subject. Although it had been years now, it was still kind of strange to see Steve with some meat on his bones. The blonde boy had grown up catching all the illnesses under the sun, forever in hospital or in his sick bed at home. Bucky had lost count of the amount of times he'd sat beside Steve's bed as he coughed and spluttered his way through his homework. He hated to think of the darker times when Sarah Rogers had taken him to one side and gently told him that maybe this time Steve might not be able to get better. It was a miracle that puberty had arrived and been so kind of them both. Just like Bucky, Steve had grown a few inches upwards as well as outwards and his dalliances with poor health were now thankfully behind him. Steve wasn't a Mr Muscles Macho Man by any means but he was bigger, more muscular and closer to Bucky in terms of his size now. Although Bucky sometimes missed that gawky, skinny kid, it meant that those days of fearing for his health on the daily were over.  
“I'd enlist.” Steve said after a few moments, turning to face his boyfriend. “It's the right thing to do.” 

“Well we all know you would.” Bucky teased with a grin. He tossed his spent cigarette butt aside and kissed Steve on the nose. “Captain Fuckin' Patriot. Been talkin' about it since you were a kid. Remember those toy soldiers?” 

“Oh yeah? Well the only reason you'd enlist is so you could keep the damn soldier outfit.” Steve replied, sticking his tongue out. The teasing came easy, a natural time-tested routine they'd forged way back when.   
“An' you'd love it.” Bucky smirked, pulling Steve close for a kiss. 

They kissed lazily for a few moments, the sky occasionally lighting up with the last of the fireworks. When they broke apart Bucky was grinning widely. A grin that Steve knew all too well. There was an asymmetry to it that Steve found incredibly sexy.   
“You got somethin' planned haven't you?” Steve asked in an accusing tone. Bucky just continued to grin and pulled a small parcel out from behind his corner of the ancient rug they were laying on. It was wrapped in the funny pages of the newspaper, an old tradition of theirs.   
“Not a birthday without a present Stevie.” Bucky replied, handing over the package. 

Steve was going to tell Bucky that the day itself had been enough of a gift but he knew that Bucky wouldn't take no for answer. He turned the parcel over in his hands. It was obviously some kind of book. Perhaps Bucky had bought him an art book from the library's withdrawn stock. They'd gotten most of their books from that shelf, including Bucky's treasured copy of '20,000 Leagues Under The Sea'. Steve carefully started picking at the tape that secured the edges. He didn't need to look up at Bucky to know that the older man was rolling his eyes. Whereas Bucky liked to tear open presents as soon as he got his hands on them, Steve liked to open them carefully so that he could re-use the paper later on. A frugal tradition passed down from his Ma.

Eventually the last piece of tape gave way and Steve unwrapped the paper to reveal a small, square sketchbook. He let out a small gasp as he ran his palm over the blue cover. It was the small sketchbook that he'd (secretly he'd thought) been coveting for months. He opened it up carefully and there lay the sheets of thick artist's paper, white and pure and just waiting to be used.   
“Buck...this is...it's real swell.” He stuttered in awe.

“Knew you'd like it.” came Bucky's cocky reply. “Been lookin' at it in that store window like it's solid gold.” Steve opened his mouth to say something but Bucky held up his hand. “You ain't allowed to ask how I afforded it Stevie. It's your birthday present so leave it at that.” He offered Steve one of his devastatingly handsome smiles and leant in for a kiss. 

A perfect birthday indeed.

~*~

Syd's bar, a short walk from the apartment, was like a second home to Bucky and Steve. They'd discovered it a couple of years ago and whilst they hadn't legally been allowed to drink, it hadn't stopped them sneaking in and taking in the amazing atmosphere the bar had to offer. It had all seemed so exotic. The smoke, the drinks, the dames. It was dark and cosy with a bar at one end and a small stage at the other. The well worn, scuffed dance floor took up the middle and the sides were lined with booth like tables lit with cheap Tiffany lamps. Bucky had spent many an evening on the dance floor, strutting his stuff with a dame. Nowadays, since he and Steve had become a couple, his dancing was a lot more platonic and mostly for the purpose of keeping up appearances. 

Tonight the bar was alive with people drinking and dancing. The booths were full, the bar was crowded and a few couples were already dancing to a record that was playing. It was going to be a good evening. When Steve lost his mother to tuberculosis, he'd also been let go from his job as a clerk. His boss had blamed it on the amount of time Steve had taken off to deal with Sarah's declining health but both he and Bucky knew the real reason was because of the TB. TB meant infection and no boss wanted to run the risk of infecting his whole office. It didn't matter that Steve had gotten himself tested and come back with a clean bill of health. As far as people were concerned when you had TB in the family, you had no place in an office filled with other people. Try as he may, Steve had had no luck in finding another job and that was where Bucky had been able to step in.

Since he'd been frequenting Syd's, he'd gotten friendly with most of the staff and, after a quick chat with Syd himself, he'd managed to land himself a job playing the piano a couple of nights a week to make some extra cash. Steve had protested but, for Bucky, it was a win-win situation. Not only was in bringing in extra dough, he got to do it by doing something that he loved. He'd been playing the piano since he was a child and he enjoyed the feeling of knowing people were dancing to the music he was playing.   
“James! James!”   
Bucky looked over to the sound of his name, although he knew all too well what he'd find. Exactly as he'd expected, Evelyn Best was standing by the bar. She offered him a wide, lip-sticked smile. He hair was its usual mass of sultry red curls and she was dressed in a red dance dress that accentuated her pale skin and brought out the colour of her brown eyes. Despite how much of an annoyance he found her, Bucky couldn't deny she knew how to make herself look good. He made his way to the bar and she handed him a glass of his favourite scotch.   
“Thought you'd like to whet your whistle before you play.” Evelyn said by way of explanation. She kissed Bucky lightly on the cheek then wiped away the lipstick trace. “You weren't here last night.” She continued. “We were all disappointed.” 

“Yesterday was Steve's birthday.” Bucky explained taking a sip of the scotch. “We were celebratin'” 

“Oh yes, I forgot! Your Mom mentioned that to me.” Evelyn replied. “I babysat Rebecca for them the night before last. Your sister is so sweet. But anyway! you're playing tonight aren't you?” Evelyn asked, before Bucky could fully take in the news that Evelyn now seemed to be his parents go to babysitter. Great. That would make things a lot more awkward. “You know how we all love it when you play.” She cocked her head as another record started to play. “I love this!” She exclaimed, her hand suddenly on Bucky's wrist. “How about we cut a rug before you take to the stage?” 

“As much as I'd love to Evie...” Bucky replied. “I'm gonna finish my drink then sort out my sheet music.” He added. It wasn't so much that he hated Evie, he just found her attempts at flirtation somewhat annoying. She was, he supposed, a sweet girl. He could understand why his parents seemed so keen on her being his sweetheart. Bucky had always liked the dames as much as guys but now he was with Steve, he no longer enjoyed the thrill of the chase. Steve always insisted that Bucky should keep up his flirtatious ways, lest people get suspicious but Bucky always shrugged those ideas off. He was certain and he couldn't be swayed. Bucky Barnes' wandering days were over. It was just a shame that nobody else could know that.   
“We could do a duet later?” Evelyn questioned. “You know Syd likes it when I sing.” 

“Sure, good idea.” Bucky answered giving her a small smile. He drained his glass and placed it back on the scratched, stained bar top. “I'll come find you after a couple of songs ok?” 

~*~

It was after midnight by the time Bucky stumbled out of Syd's. Evelyn had left an hour or so beforehand and despite her best efforts to try and get Bucky to go with her, he'd stayed on to have a couple of drinks with William the bartender. As a result he was a little on the side of tipsy. The cool summer night's breeze helped a little and it was a welcome relief from the stuffy air of the bar-room. What made the evening better however, was the sight of Steve sitting on the stairs of an abandoned house opposite the bar. He had his pocket sketchbook and pencil beside him so he'd obviously been drawing to pass the time.  
“Hey Stevie!” Bucky weaved his way over the street as Steve stood up, tucking the sketchbook and pencil back into his pocket.   
“Had a good night?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow as Bucky offered him a slightly wobbly salute. He would've loved to have offered Bucky his arm to lean on but he didn't want to risk the pair of them being seen by anybody. Instead, as they set off down the street, he settled for just walking alongside him, ready to grab him if it looked like his boyfriend was going to hit the dirt.   
“Shoulda been there tonight Stevie.” Bucky replied. “Played real good. Even earned me some tips.” He grinned from ear to ear and jingled his pockets. “Was thinkin' I could treat you to lunch tomorrow in that diner we saw?”

“You don't need to treat me Buck.” Steve said. “I just had my birthday remember?” 

“I wanna treat my man!” Bucky exclaimed in an overly dramatic sing-song voice. Steve's smile immediately faded as he glanced around nervously. Luck seemed to be on their side as nobody could be seen on either side of the street. Most of the drinkers and dancers had long since returned home.   
“C'mon Buck, let's get home.” Steve replied, trying to pick up the pace a little. Bucky was as stubborn as a mule when he got an idea into his head so it was better for them if he could just get his tipsy boyfriend back to the safety of their apartment as quickly as possible.   
“What's so wrong with us huh Stevie?” Bucky asked, walking with one foot on the pavement and one on the road like they used to do when they were kids. He didn't seem in any rush to get anywhere. “Wanna tell me what's so bad 'bout us lovin' each other? Wantin' to be together? Bein' as true as any old married couple?”

“Buck. This really isn't the time or the place.” Steve said, trying his best to sound gentle and coaxing whilst trying to hustle Bucky along at the same time.   
“C'mhere Stevie. Give me a big ol' kiss.” Bucky persisted. He stepped onto the pavement properly and stood in front of his boyfriend. “Ain't nobody around at this time. S'fine.” He pleaded. “For once I just wanna kiss my guy just like anyone else.” 

Steve was not wholly convinced. Ever since he'd realised that he was gay he'd known the importance of keeping his feelings a secret. To the general public he was a fairy, an invert. That was what society liked to think. His Ma, his sweet, gentle Ma, hadn't given two cents about it but Steve knew that most people on the street weren't that forgiving. True, there was nothing he'd like better than to go on dates with Bucky like the rest of the people their age did. Occasional cinema trips and meals at the diner but it just wasn't something within their reach. Not that Steve would trade their romantic trysts on their secluded rooftop for the world...

Lips crashed down onto his and before he knew it, he was being kissed, albeit a little sloppily, by his tipsy boyfriend. For the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to reciprocate, despite his better judgement screaming at him to stop. He couldn't help but feel afterwards that the both of them had just made one of the biggest mistakes of their lives.

~*~

The following evening, after a hard day at the docks (helped in no way by the slight hangover), Bucky headed for his parent's house. He deeply regretted promising to show up for his fortnightly family dinner that seemed to have somehow become a mandatory tradition. It wasn't that he hated his family. Far from it. Since moving out he missed seeing his little sister every day and despite his slightly strained relationship with his father, he missed his parents too. What made the family dinners awkward was that, more often than not, dinner conversation revolved around Bucky's love life. George Barnes was a traditional man and although he didn't say as much, he obviously though Bucky some kind of deviant for still being unwed in his early twenties. 

However, the upside to the family meal was definitely his mother's cooking. Winifred Barnes liked to go all out for these 'events' as she called them, often providing a generous but simple three course meal within their current budget. Today's effort was not a disappointment. As soon as Bucky walked into the house he could smell the delicious scents of roasting meat and his mother's famous mashed potatoes. He hung his slightly threadbare jacket on the hook by the door and headed for the dining room where he knew his family would already be seated in anticipation of the spread. 

He expected to see his father sitting at the head of the table as usual, probably flicking through the evening edition of the local newspaper. His sister, Becca, would be no doubt engrossed in some complicated game with whatever toys she'd managed to sneak to the table despite his mother's nagging. Becca was only eight years old but she already knew her own mind better than most other kids Bucky had ever known. She was definitely going to be a handful when she hit her teenage years. As he opened the door to the dining room he wasn't entirely surprised to see Evelyn sitting directly opposite the door, next to Becca, who was ignoring her in favour of playing with the Mother and Father from her little doll house set. 

Evelyn was dressed in a navy blue shirt-waist dress with a white flower pattern. She'd tuned down her bar make-up, swapping her vampish red for a neutral pink. Her hair was pinned up at the back. She was sitting primly but relaxed, looking every inch the girl you would want your son to marry. Bucky wasn't stupid. He knew why she was here and he knew it wasn't all her fault. Evelyn came from a higher class than the Barnes'. Her father had been something of a captain of industry and had made a pretty penny doing what he did. Unfortunately, both he and Evelyn's mother had passed away after a motor vehicle accident leaving Evelyn and her two older brothers behind. Bucky sort of knew one of them, he was a worker at the docks too. He couldn't quite remember how Evelyn and his parent's paths had crossed but it seemed as though they'd fallen for her as the perfect wife for him. 

Something however was a little off about her. She usually greeted him with gusto, her green eyes twinkling, her whole face lighting up. Now she was barely looking at him, simply offering him a nod as he took a seat opposite her.   
A moment later, Winifred Barnes breezed into the dining room carrying her trusty earthenware casserole dish. She beamed when she saw Bucky sitting at the table.   
“How was work today?” She asked, managing to put the dish down on the table, kiss Bucky's cheek and fill his water glass at the same time in that way that only a mother could.   
“Good.” Bucky replied. Evelyn still wasn't making eye contact or talking and it was getting distinctly weird. Usually you couldn't shut her up. He tried to catch her eye but failed. 

“S'good job at those docks.” George Barnes announced, allowing his wife to serve him a hearty helping of beef casserole. “A real man's job.” He added as he brandished his fork. A fork, Bucky knew, had been carefully polished beforehand by his house proud mother. And with that comment came the reason why Bucky and his father had a strained relationship at best. Things had been fine whilst he'd been growing up, only hitting a snag when he'd met Steve. As far as George Barnes was concerned, Steven Grant Rogers was the devil incarnate. George was a veteran of the First World War and he had very strong beliefs that a man should be settled and married by age twenty one. At twenty five years old, Bucky had proved himself to be quite the disappointment in that field. George blamed Bucky's lack of marriage on Steve. He had never said so in as many words but it was clear in that Steve was never invited to these family meals and was never talked about. Bucky was certain that if George Barnes had his way, Steve wouldn't be a part of his son's life. After all, who would want to date a man who lived with another man? In George's perfect world, sons lived with their families until they were married and then they would create a family home of their own to carry on the noble family name.

A large portion of beef casserole was suddenly placed in front of him. It smelt much richer than anything Bucky had eaten in the last couple of weeks. He decided to get his mother on her own in the kitchen later and ask to take some home. He couldn't remember the last decent meal he and Steve had eaten since money became tighter. He knew Steve would love a bowlful of beef casserole.  
“Aren't you glad Evelyn could be here tonight?” Winifred asked when she finally took a seat opposite her husband. She smiled at Evelyn who smiled back, albeit stiffly. 

“Yeah.” Bucky replied, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt. He wondered when his parents were going to give up on the whole Evelyn thing. It didn't seem likely to happen any time soon especially since she now seemed to be their go to babysitter. He looked up to see Evelyn studying her plate like his mother's beef casserole was the most interesting thing in the world. 

~*~

 

It proved to be a long and awkward meal. Evelyn had been perfectly polite with his parents but she'd barely said a word to Bucky all night. Instead she'd focussed her attentions on Becca who'd chatted excitedly to their guest whilst George and Winifred looked on with pride. Eventually, after what seemed like an age or two, it had been time to leave. Winifred had tried to get Bucky to fetch Evelyn's coat but Evelyn had practically leapt up from the table to grab it herself. All in all, it had been a weird experience. 

However, Bucky had successfully managed to claim the leftovers and was carrying them in one of his mother's older casserole dishes. One good thing had come from the awkward night, he and Steve would be eating like kings for the next couple of days. He couldn't wait to see Steve's face as he presented his boyfriend with a bowlful of the rich beef casserole. Bucky was pretty sure work would go a whole lot faster too when he knew he'd have a good meal to come home to. 

He was just debating whether or not to pick up some bread to go with it after his dock shift when he heard rapid approaching footsteps behind him. He'd caught up in enough of Steve's fights to know that that sound meant danger. He tried to turn around but what felt like a sturdy boot met the back of his knee causing him to crumple to the ground. The casserole dish went flying and smashed around him, spraying shards of pottery and jets of cold casserole into his face. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, further kicks rained down upon him. It felt like hundreds and hundreds of legs but in reality he could just about make out two voices. They were saying things, taunting him and he was sure he heard the word 'invert' mentioned before an excruciating pain shot up his left arm. With bleary eyes he tried to turn his head to see why his arm suddenly felt as though it'd been smashed but one of the boots came down on his head and his entire world went black.

~*~

Steve grumbled in irritation as the lead of his pencil snapped for the third time in the last hour. It was nearing midnight and his concentration was completely shot. He'd known that Bucky was going to his parents place for their fortnightly family dinner but he'd never been this late back before. Steve supposed that Bucky could've decided to head to Syd's for a drink but it seemed unlikely that he wouldn't stop by the apartment first to let him know. He tossed his sketchbook angrily to one side. He'd been trying to draw a portrait of Bucky but he'd lost his focus a couple of hours ago. He hauled himself off of the sofa and moved to the window to see if he could spot his errant boyfriend. He imagined it now. Bucky strutting up the street in that jaunty way of his, probably full of whatever delicious meal his Ma had decided to cook. With a bit of luck, he'd managed to get some leftovers again. Despite having very little to do with the Barnes', Steve knew from leftovers alone what a brilliant cook Bucky's ma was and Bucky could more often than not bring back a couple of meals worth of leftovers.

There was no sign of him however. Steve even opened the window and leaned out as far as he dare and he couldn't see his boyfriend further up the street either. It briefly crossed his mind to go out looking for him but then, he figured, if Bucky did return, he'd end up being the one worried since it wasn't like Steve to be out so late. Steve closed the window with a frustrated sigh and nibbled his bottom lip agitatedly. He could only hope that wherever his boyfriend was, he would come home soon, safe and sound. 

~*~

After a long night with no sleep whatsoever, Steve was extremely worried. Bucky still hadn't returned home and a quick tour of their local hangouts had provided him with no answers. Nobody seemed to have seen hide nor hair of Bucky since yesterday afternoon. At six that morning he'd tried their local diner, waiting outside impatiently for it to open. Perhaps Bucky had spent the night at his parent's house and was having a little breakfast before heading to the docks for the day. Steve had used the last bit of change in his pocket to buy himself a coffee and park himself at a table, ensuring he had a good view of the door, to wait. 

Eight O clock found him at the docks. Bucky hadn't shown up at the diner and knowing that he was currently on the early shift, Steve told himself that Bucky had probably headed straight for work from his parent's place. It had been stupid of him to expect Bucky at the diner. Of course his ma would see to it that her son had a proper breakfast before a full day's work rather than the stuff the diner served up. So, he'd walked all the way to the docks and perched himself on a nearby wall so he could watch the workers arrive for the day. 

Nine O Clock found him on the edge of panic. He'd stayed a whole hour at the docks, watching the initial wave of workers and then the stragglers and then the latecomers. Bucky hadn't been in any of those groups. Given their current financial situation, Steve knew that there was no way in hell that Bucky would miss a day's work without good reason. A rock was sitting in the pit of his stomach, sharp and heavy and telling him that something was very wrong. He turned away from the docks and started to run towards the Barnes' household. Maybe if he could run fast enough, he could run away from the rock and the voice inside his head that told him that something terrible had happened to his boyfriend. 

~*~

'He was found in the street. Lost of a lot of blood by the time the time anyone called for the ambulance'

'Thank you. We'll do what we can. Nurse, hang the blood. Type specific. I'll start a line.' 

'Doctor, his arm.'

'Get surgery down here now.'

'You think he might lose it?'

'It's hard to tell. Dr Reid, I need him intubated now.'

'His vitals are dropping Doctor.'

'Resus! Now!'

~*~

Steve pounded on the door of the Barnes' house. He hoped to God that somebody would open the door. He'd even tried yelling through the mail slot. He closed his eyes and tried to take a deep, cleansing breath before he renewed the hammering on the door. The noise should've made the voice in his head quieter but instead all it seemed to have done was inflame it. He knew something was wrong. He knew that it had to be Bucky. His Ma always joked that the pair of them shared some weird six sense and now he knew what she meant. He knew it. He just fucking knew it. Something was very, very wrong.  
“Poundin' fit to wake the dead you are.” He heard another voice over the cacophony of his own noise. It wasn't internal this time. It belonged to a next door neighbour who was currently leaning over the wall. She was dressed in an apron and had her hair tied up in a neat bun. She was obviously in the middle of some serious cleaning.  
“Please! Have you seen anyone leave today?” Steve asked desperately. He must've looked as crazy as he felt because she took a step back slightly, looking a little unnerved.   
“Early this morning'.” She replied. “'bout four am. Woke me up they did. Heard somethin' about the hospital.” She seemed to forget her fear of Steve and leant forward eagerly. “You know what's goin' on?” 

But by the time she finished her sentence, Steve was already halfway down the street. 

~*~

After way more bureaucracy than his patience could handle, Steve finally managed to use a couple of his Ma's old nurse friends to locate the ward that James Barnes had been admitted to. He felt wicked for thinking it, but the entire time he was waiting for an answer, he was hoping and praying that the Barnes admitted was anyone but Bucky. He'd felt like throwing up as soon as his worst fears had been confirmed but he'd managed to push it down and make his way, albeit on shaky legs, to the correct ward. 

Almost as if he'd known somehow, George Barnes was waiting outside the ward's entrance doors. They hadn't had much dialogue over the years but Steve knew the man hated him. He'd lost count of the times George had tried to stop them seeing each other when they were growing up. Each time he'd failed spectacularly thanks to Bucky's cunning and Steve's stubborn persistence.   
“No.” George said firmly as soon as he caught sight of Steve. His arms were clamped across his chest. He looked the epitome of immovable.   
“Mr Barnes...”

“I said no.” George interrupted. “You're not to see him.” 

“Please Mr Barnes...Sir...I hafta” Steve pleaded. He felt as if he was going to burst. He wanted to vomit, to scream, to punch someone and to throw something all at once. He'd spent the whole night and most of the morning scared out of his mind and now, at the final hurdle, he was being told no. “You don't-”

“You're to leave.” George continued as if Steve hadn't spoken. “If you won't then I'll see to it that you're removed. You have no right to be here.” 

“You have no idea what he means to me.” Steve shot back without thinking, fury over-riding his common sense. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he mentally cursed. He quickly glanced around and the only person who heard was George. Not that that made things any better. George leant towards Steve, so close that Steve could make out the grey hairs in his moustache and the flecks of spit in the corners of his mouth.   
“I know exactly.” George said in a low, dangerous tone. “And it's disgusting. My boy was fine until you turned him into a dirty invert. Well let me tell you one thing sonny, you're not to see him again. You're not welcome here nor are you welcome anywhere near my home or my family. My boy ain't no fairy and I'm not standing by and letting filth like you ruin his life. You come anywhere near this place again and I'll see to it that you're arrested. Do you understand?” 

"Bucky can make up his own mind, and I know he'll want to see me. You may be his father, but you don't control him! I'm not ruining his life, you are. Hell, he hates half the things you've been putting him through. Trying to force him to marry someone he couldn't care less about? All so you can keep climbing the social ladder!” Steve shook his head disgustedly. He was vaguely aware that a couple of people had stopped what they were doing to watch but he didn't care. He needed to see Bucky. “It's BS. Bucky can love who he wants to. Go ahead, and arrest me. See how much 'your boy' wants to be around you then. See how much he cares about you when break his heart!” He felt as though he'd just lost his mind. The words spilled out as easily as anything, fuelled by the frustration that he couldn't live a 'normal' life all because of who he loved. 

Steve stood there breathing heavily as George took in his tirade. The older man was beginning to tremble, angry red patches appearing on his cheeks. The people who were staring started to move on quickly, obviously sensing danger. Steve stared at George, refusing to look away, standing with his fists clenched by his side.   
“You have” George said slowly, as if he were choosing his words carefully. “One minute to leave.” 

“Not until I know he's alright.” Steve replied stubbornly. Bucky had always told him his stubbornness was the thing that got him into trouble the most and it looked like it was about to happen again.   
“He''ll live.” George answered gruffly. “That's all you need to know and frankly it's more than you deserve to know. Now you need to leave.”   
Steve opened his mouth to argue back but was silenced by two approaching security guards who had obviously been summoned amongst their stand-off. Sensing that his actions weren't going to help Bucky any, he gave George Barnes one last glare before turning on his heel.

He ran blindly down the hospital corridor. His heart hammered away in his chest. Bile filled his mouth and he kept having to swallow it back down for fear of disgracing himself in public. His boyfriend was laying in a hospital bed somewhere that he wasn't allowed to go. Sure he'd stood up for himself in front of George but that had mostly been all talk. George was a bully and he needed standing up to. His threats, he knew, were not to be taken lightly. George had always wanted a reason to keep them apart and now he'd been given one. Steve knew logically that he couldn't ask any of his Ma's friends to let him into the ward. Knowing George, it would mean they'd probably be risking their jobs to do it and he couldn't do that to them.

He couldn't stand the thought of not being with Bucky when the older man needed him. After all, how many times had Bucky stayed in the house with him when he'd been that sickly little kid forever coming down with something? It was how they worked. They were a team. And what would Bucky think when he woke up and found the chair next to his bed empty? His parents would be there but he'd be waiting for Steve to arrive. Tears pricked in the corner of Steve's eyes as he pictured Bucky desperately asking a nurse if Steve had been to visit. He could see the nurse's sympathetic face as she told him no....

“Oh!”   
Steve collided with something. Someone.   
“Steven!”   
Steve recognised that voice. It was as kindly as it had ever been and for one brief, perfect moment, he was convinced that it was his beloved Ma. But of course he knew that couldn't be.

Instead of his Ma, it was Winifred Barnes standing in front of him looking tired and old and carrying a bulging knitting bag.   
“Mrs Barnes!” Steve exclaimed, suddenly so joyous that he could lean forward and kiss her. Winifred had never subscribed to George's views on his friendship with Bucky. He was certain, if she knew the truth, that she wouldn't have a problem with their relationship either. She'd always been friendly to Steve, offering him treats and tending to his wounds when he and Bucky had been kids. She'd always tried her best to include him as one of the family.   
“Call me Winifred dear.” She tutted, readjusting the bag on her shoulder. She smiled at him but there was something guarded about it, almost as if she expected her husband to come stalking down the corridor at any moment.   
“How is he?” Steve asked, dispensing with any niceties. He knew she would understand given the circumstances.   
“He's stable.” Winifred answered, her eyebrows knitting together with worry. “He was quite badly beaten. His left arm-” She clamped a hand over her mouth quickly as tears started to seep down her cheeks. Steve reached out to her but she shook her head, backing away. She closed her eyes for a moment and reopened them as her hand fell back to her side. “They don't think he'll ever regain full use of it.” She said quietly. 

The words hit Steve like a ton of bricks. Bucky. His left arm. Never regain full use. Each word drove a searing hot stake deeper and deeper into his heart. Without full use of his left arm Bucky would no longer be able to play the piano. Imagining Bucky without his music was, well, Steve couldn't imagine it. For years and years Bucky had been that talented piano player. Bucky felt the same way about music that he, Steve, felt about art. He couldn't imagine being in a world where he could no longer draw. So for Bucky to have to be in a world where he could no longer play...

No. It couldn't be this way. Surely. He'd obviously misheard her, or she'd made some kind of mistake. It was easily done. It had to be. 

"He can't... Are you sure? Did they try everything? There has to be something more they can do. How can... How will he... he can't play......work on the docks? How's he gonna keep a job?"  
The panic hit him like a wave as he stumbled over his own words. It wasn't fucking fair. Bucky was never going to play the piano again. He'd probably never want to go out again. He...Dammit! Why did it have to happen to Bucky of all people? He tried to catch a breath but it felt like he was drowning. At least he was still alive. It could've been much, much worse. In the back of his mind he could hear Bucky's voice telling him to calm down, to relax, to take a breath. A mantra he'd heard so many times before. Even separated they were together. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"He's still alive, Steven. What happened could have been far worse, and you know that. We're lucky that those thugs left James with his life. Now, I won't lie, he won't be the same, not at all - certainly not now with George watching him like a hawk. I will warn you, Steven, if George finds the two of you together, well, he may just haul you to jail himself." 

“I..I know..” Steve choked out. Winifred pulled him into a quick hug. 

“I promise I'll keep an eye on him for you Steven.” She whispered in his ear before gathering up her bag and hurrying away down the corridor. 

~*~

Steve wasn't sure how he'd gotten back to the apartment. He didn't remember anything of the journey home. He fumbled with the lock and pushed the heavy door open. As soon as he was in the safety of the apartment, he closed the door and leant against it, taking a deep breath and trying his best to stay in control. 

It was then that it occurred to him that the apartment was no longer a safe place. George Barnes would soon be entering a place that was littered with evidence of his and Bucky's precious relationship. It was a welcome thought. It meant that he had something to do. A lot of things to do. He wouldn't have to sit and concentrate on how it was his fault that his boyfriend was currently lying in a hospital bed with a bleak future ahead of him. He never should've allowed that damn kiss. Someone had obviously seen them that night. It was a dangerous thought process. He couldn't afford to break down. He needed to plough forward, to fight and to ensure that George Barnes would find no evidence to use against them. 

He had a purpose. He wasn't there to protect Bucky at the time but he could damn well protect him now. 

So, like a whirlwind, Steve started his destructive purge of the apartment. The pictures he'd drawn, the letters they'd wrote, anything that bore any modicum of a sign of their relationship was ripped and torn and hastily shoved into the fire grate. He fumbled for the matches and ignited the pile, watching for a moment as the flames started to lick at their memories. He sweated in the heat of the small room as he grabbed a cardboard box and started to throw Bucky's things into it. He didn't like the idea of George entering the apartment and rifling through it, defiling it as he gathered his son's personal possessions. Steve knew that he should fight against him but he was fearful of what his actions might mean for Bucky. He could've kicked himself for what he'd said back at the hospital to George. The grim fact of the matter was that, as wrong as it was, homosexuality was an arrestable offence. The last thing Bucky needed right now was to see Steve be arrested or be arrested himself. 

He threw clothes, a razor, a toothbrush and shoes into the box. He felt around under the pillow on Bucky's side of the bed for the white tank top he liked to sleep in. It briefly crossed Steve's mind to keep it for himself but he couldn't risk anything being missing. He brought it to his face for a moment, inhaled, and took a deep breath before tossing it into the box. 

Of course, they weren't rich people and, as a consequence, they didn't have many possessions. Due mostly to that and his fervour, Steve had finished packing within half an hour. The papers had mostly burned away to nothing and all of a sudden he felt so cold. He placed the box by the front door and turned to survey the apartment which now looked so empty. The sketches Bucky had insisted they put up on the walls were gone. The photos of their trips to Coney Island over the years were no more. Steve leant against the front door hoping that it would support his suddenly shaky legs. 

And that was when he saw it. In his haste to clear the apartment he'd managed to miss it. Sitting on the kitchen table, as bold as brass, lay Bucky's sheet music from the bar. Slowly Steve's legs gave way and he slid to the floor.

~*~

Dawn's grey fingers infiltrated the night and Steve had barely moved. He'd managed to drag himself away from the front door and take a seat at the kitchen table but he'd done nothing since. He ignored his grumbling stomach and dry mouth. He stared down at the sheet music, just had he'd done all night. Sleep had eluded him because his brain was determined to present him with a show of all of his happy memories of Bucky and his music. They'd started from when Bucky had rushed up to him at school, excitedly telling him that his Dad had found an old piano at a curiosity shop. On and on, years passed, taunting Steve will happy images of Bucky grinning as he played complicated pieces or that cute look of concentration he had when he was trying to compose something new. Steve traced the notes on the sheet music with his finger. He gently stroked the comments on the side, written haphazardly in Bucky's sloping script. The afternoon was just starting when Steve finally summoned up the courage to move. 

He knew what his Ma would tell him right now. That sitting around and moping wouldn't get anyone anywhere but how was he supposed to go about his life when it felt as if it'd been placed on hold? Bucky's life was in pieces and it seemed that George Barnes was determined to cause trouble between them. Steve missed his Ma like crazy but without Bucky around to ease the pain it was if a chasm had opened within him. He felt lost, lonely and there was nothing he could about it. 

Except there was. Steve's failure to protect Bucky from harm was the thing that weighed the heaviest on his mind. He felt like he should've been there. Should've been at his boyfriend's side to throw some good punches at the disgusting bullies who had the audacity to attack him. Bucky had always been there through his sickly years, when school yard taunts went too far and Steve would end up on the other end of someone's fist. Bucky had been the one to step it and end the fight whilst Steve argued that he was fine, that he could fight back all day if he had to. Years of love and protection and the one time Bucky needed it in return, Steve hadn't been there for him. It was a bitter pill to swallow, made worse by the fact that it wasn't a simple split lip or bruised ego, it was his boyfriend's life, changed forever. 

He pushed the sheet music away. He had to get out of the apartment. He wiped his eyes, made to grab his jacket form its hook, realised that he'd never taken it off and headed out of the door. 

He wasn't sure if he wanted the cardboard box to be there or not when he returned. 

~*~

Steve's direction-less wandering led him to Syd's. He was going to walk straight past but figured the very least he could do for Bucky would be to let Syd know that he wouldn't be able to work for a while. It would be much too painful to tell him the truth. 'A while' seemed a lot more hopeful sounding than 'never again'. With a heavy heart, Steve entered the bar. 

As it transpired, Syd wasn't working so Steve settled on William, one of the bartenders he and Bucky knew well. He was behind the bar already, in the middle of slicing his way through a small wooden bowl of lemons and limes in preparation for the evening trade. He nodded at Steve as he approached the bar.   
“Hey Steve, startin' a little early?” He teased as he wiped his sticky hands on a nearby dishcloth. He turned around to give Steve his full attention. “What'll it be?” 

“Nothin' thanks.” Steve replied, resisting the urge to gulp down a hearty shot of the strongest available whiskey. He had an inkling that wouldn't help him feel any better. “I'm actually here to talk about Bucky.” He swallowed. “He won't be in for a while. He, uh, he was attacked.” 

“Fuckin' what?” William said, his face instantly darkening. “No fuckin' way.” He shook his head in disbelief. “He's ok?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve answered quickly. “He, uh, just needs time ya know?” He added, fiddling with the dish cloth that William had left on the bar top. It was damp and smelled like citrus. A little like the lemony zing of Bucky's aftershave.   
“Well I know Syd'll say the same, he'll always have a job here. You tell him from all of us that we'll miss him and that we'll have a helluva party when he comes back.” William said, nodding adamantly. He seemed to think for a moment, chewing his lip. “An' if there's anythin' I can do for him, you just give me a holler.” 

Steve nodded gratefully and made his quick farewell. Staying in the bar too long would undoubtedly bring back a fresh wave of taunting memories. He didn't even dare look in the direction of the stage.

As soon as he stepped back out onto the street, he realised that he had nowhere to really go. Ever since they'd met, he'd never really been without Bucky for longer than a day. His heart flinched as he remembered a particularly joyous time when they were eight years old and his Ma had somehow scraped together the money to take he and Bucky on a little holiday. It had only been a couple of days away but Steve remembered how daunted he'd felt at the prospect of leaving behind his best friend. After all, the eight year old Steve reasoned, Bucky might very well find someone else to be his best bud whilst he was away. He remembered how excited he''d been and how much his heart had soared when his Ma announced that Bucky was coming along too. 

It seemed he was doomed to relive these moments. Happy memories that now seem tinged with guilt, like black ink spilled over pure white pieces of paper. It would seep across and taint them all. Half of him wanted to return to the apartment in the hopes that it had all been some hideous dream. He'd walk through the familiar door and Bucky would be sprawled on their battered couch and free from injury, his head stuck in one of his favourite science fiction books. Bucky was always partial to anything scientific. The other half of him never wanted to walk through that door again. But then, would it really make a difference? Everywhere he went he would be reminded of Bucky. He walked the streets blindly for another hour before admitting defeat and returning to the apartment. His heart gave a leap as he opened the door, wondering if somehow his dream would come true. 

Even though he'd told himself it was utterly impossible, Bucky was there. He wasn't on the couch reading, he was sitting at the kitchen table. His face still bore the marks of his beating. His skin marred by bruising and a particularly nasty looking sutured gash just above his left eye. His left arm was in plaster and a sling.  
“Buck?”

“Wondered where you were.” Bucky replied. He didn't make eye contact, choosing instead to stare at the sheet music that was still on the table. His voice sounded odd, flat, lifeless.   
“Buck! God...it's so good to see you.” Steve moved towards his boyfriend. 

“Is it?” Bucky asked flatly, effectively stopping Steve in his tracks. “Y'see, the thing is Stevie, I was lookin' forward to being outta that hospital. I was lookin' forward to comin' home and seein' you. I had an argument with my Pop. He wasn't so pleased I was comin' here. Tried tellin' me a buncha bullshit 'bout how it was better to be with my family than you. So I make it back here and I find my stuff in that cardboard box there. All our pictures taken down and it leaves me wonderin' what's goin' on y'know?” 

“Bucky...shit...I can explain.” Steve replied, feeling his entire body turn to ice. “Your Pop, he was talkin' 'bout callin' the cops. Said he was gonna come an' get your stuff. I just wanted you to be safe...”

“Hurt me to help me y'mean?” Bucky interrupted. Steve nodded. Bucky rolled his eyes defeatedly. “Fuck Stevie...y'know what I thought? I thought you'd found out about this.” He nodded to his arm. “An' y'know...ya didn't want me no more.” 

“No fuckin' way!” Steve exclaimed adamantly. 

“Shoulda figured it was you bein' a stubborn ass.” Bucky shook his head, a hint of a smile on his face. “An' I guess I'm an ass for thinkin' you'd be doin' somethin' like that.” He stood up and held out his right arm. “C'mhere ya big asshole.” 

Steve didn't need telling twice. He closed the distance between the two of them, enveloping Bucky in as tight a hug as he dare considering Bucky's injuries. Seeing him, touching him, and knowing that nothing had really changed between them despite what had happened all became too much. No matter what, he loved Bucky and, amazingly, Bucky still loved him. He could feel the tears welling up and in one sudden outburst, they came. All of the tears he'd held back from the last couple of days came pouring out as he started to sob unashamedly. He could feel Bucky shift slightly so that the older man could pull him closer. He felt Bucky's stubble brush his cheek as the words came, sweet and whispered, for his ears only.  
“It's ok Stevie. I love you.” 

~*~

In the following weeks, times got even tougher. Unsurprisingly, Bucky lost his job at the docks. The letter came as a blow but was expected all the same. Next came the letter from George telling Bucky in no uncertain terms that if he chose to stay in the apartment he would no longer be welcome in the Barnes household. Steve wondered how much more bad news would be coming their way and how Bucky would deal with it. He'd been surprisingly quiet about it all. He'd crumpled up George's letter seemingly without a second thought and he'd made no references to his injury other than attending the necessary appointments to have his cast removed and his stitches checked. Whenever Steve tried to get him to talk about it, Bucky clammed up and usually changed the subject. He wouldn't talk about the job at Syd's either. The sheet music vanished from the kitchen table and Steve didn't find it until he saw the remaining scraps in the fire grate. It seemed that he wasn't the only one who could be as stubborn as a mule. 

Steve tried his best but no matter what he tried, Bucky refused to talk about it. Instead, the older man chose to throw himself into helping find Steve a job. It seemed that news of his Ma's death from tuberculosis had spread throughout the local offices and Steve had no hope of getting another clerk job. He wasn't exactly surprised since a lot of his former co-workers had a penchant for gossip. He didn't want to travel too far afield as there would be no spare money for bus fares. Eventually, after a search lasting almost a month, Steve finally found a job. It was in a local convenience store, a few blocks away from the apartment. It wasn't doing anything glamorous, the owner warned him, he'd be working in the stockroom, taking in deliveries and then stacking shelves on the shop floor. But, to Steve, it was better than nothing. He was actually relishing the idea of doing something a bit more manual. He'd never particularly enjoyed sitting behind a desk all day. It reminded him too much of being stuck in bed as a child.   
“So, with good luck an' a fair wind, you can start next week.” Mr Collins said as he shook Steve's hand. “An' don't you go worryin' about all that nonsense with your Ma.” He added. “Strikes me as a bit silly when you're clearly a good honest man who wants to earn money. As long as you put in the work and do it well, we'll have no trouble.” 

That afternoon, Steve rushed home to tell Bucky the good news. He stopped at the local bakery to pick up some freshly baked bread and at the butcher's for a small amount of bacon. Bucky smiled from the kitchen table as Steve cooked up the bacon sandwiches and gave him a kiss once Steve announced the news about his new job.   
“Looks like things are lookin' up.” Bucky said as he finished off his sandwich and pushed the plate aside. There was a smile on his face but his eyes were dull. 

Steve wondered how long his boyfriend could go on this way. 

~*~

December 7th 1941

Steve was at work when the news broke. Mr Collins always had his little radio switched on in the stockroom. It was good to sweep along to the music or to have something to listen to while deliveries were checked off. But today the radio doesn't bring jolly music. Instead the broadcast is interrupted by a grave message. 

'I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7th, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese empire'

Steve's heart felt like peach stone as the president's words sink in. He glanced at Mr Collins who was staring at the radio, open mouthed, in disbelief. Steve's mind was cast back to his birthday when he'd talked to Bucky about the possibility of the war reaching their shores. Bucky had been dismissive but now Steve's worst fears had been confirmed. 

America was going to war. 

~*~

Shortly after the announcement, Mr Collins had closed the store and allowed Steve to go home. He'd given Steve his full blessing to join up and promised him that he would always have a job to return to, calling him a 'dear brave lad'. Joining up wasn't even a question for him or, at least, it hadn't been. Ever since he'd read about the Germans attacks on Europe, he'd vowed that if America ever needed him, he would be there. He had some pretty big shoes to fill by following in the footsteps of his father but he'd never questioned it. Until now. 

As it happened, when he arrived at the apartment, Bucky already knew. He'd been listening the radio as he sat by the window and had heard the same announcement. As soon as Steve burst through the door, breathless from the run, he'd spoken.  
“You need to join up.” He said, a serious expression on his face. His injured left arm hung limply by his side and Steve couldn't help but stare at it, feeling anxiety bubbling away in the pit of his stomach as the realisation hit him.  
“I can't.” 

“Why the hell not Stevie?” Bucky asked, turning around on the window seat so he could see his boyfriend. “You always said you would. Followin' in your Pop's footsteps an' all.” He added almost accusingly. 

“Buck, I'm not gonna leave-” 

“No Stevie.” Bucky's face twisted in anger. “Don't say that you're not gonna leave me cos I ain't being the reason you don't do somethin' you believe in. You remember on your seventh birthday when your Ma bought you those tin soldiers? Played with 'em all day we did and you told me that when you grew up you wanted to be a soldier like your Pop.” 

“That was before-” 

“Before what? Before I got crippled?” Bucky interrupted bitterly. He spat the word out as if it were dirty, shaking his head with disgust as he did so. He nodded at his mangled arm, a bulky elbow support still attached to it. He was supposed to wear a sling but more often than not, he'd just let it hang there. It caused him terrible shoulder pain but there was no way he'd readily admit that to Steve.   
“Buck don't say-” 

“It's fuckin' true Stevie so I'll say it all I damn well please.” Bucky said obstinately. 

“Jesus Christ Bucky! Will you let me get a damn word in edgeways?” Steve shouted so suddenly that he almost shocked himself. “It's my decision to make and I don't wanna leave you behind.” 

“No. No fuckin' way.” Bucky was pacing in front of the window now, shaking his head. “I ain't bein' somebody's damn burden! I can manage ok? Syd likes me, I'm sure he'll give me somethin' and I'll get along just fine. I don't need any favours thank you very fuckin' much.” 

“Buck...” 

“No!” Bucky suddenly yelled. “I ain't holdin' you back Stevie! I ain't gonna be the one who stops you doin' things cos of...cos of this!” He angrily indicated his injured arm. There were tears building in his eyes but he dashed them away defiantly. “I gotta get outta here.” He suddely announced, marching towards the door. Steve tried to stop him but Bucky just shoved him aside roughly.

~*~

“An' then I just walked out.” Bucky admitted, shamefaced, as he sat on the wooden bench in the laundromat. It was a Sunday and he knew that not even an announcement of war would stop his mother doing the laundry for the upcoming week. So, after walking out of the apartment and away from Steve, Bucky had made a beeline for the familiar place. He and his Ma had been sharing clandestine meetings in the laundromat ever since Bucky had gotten the letter from his father. Whilst his Ma didn't agree with George's opinion that their son should be cast out of the family because of who he chose to live with, Bucky saw the impossibility of her standing up to him. He didn't really miss his Pop all that much but not seeing Becca was yet another thing in his life to be bitter about although he did agree with his Ma's opinion that it would be too easy for her to let slip what was going on behind her father's back.  
“James.” Winifred finished loading the clothes and turned to face him. “What is this really about?” She asked, hands firmly on her hips. Bucky recognised that look anywhere. It was his Ma's best I-can-see-through-your-bullshit look. Bucky sighed deeply. He wondered briefly if his Ma had been born with a built in bullshit detector or whether it was something that could be learnt. 

“Ok so maybe I'm usin' my injury as an excuse.” He admitted. 

“Well I could've told you that.” Winifred said. She took a seat beside him on the wooden bench and took hold of his left hand. He stroked her thumb across the back of it tenderly. “So tell me James, what's really going on with you?” She asked in a tone that reminded Bucky of being a child again. Specifically when he'd hurt himself playing and his Ma had taken care of him.   
“I'm scared Ma...” Bucky replied quietly, staring down at the cracked brown tiles. “Those guys attacked me 'cos they said I was an invert. They were sayin' it over and over as they were kickin' me. An' m'not even scared for myself. If Steve stays with me then I gotta worry about them goin' after him next time an' that maybe it'll be a lot worse.” He took a deep breath. “But what's the alternative Ma? He joins up and then I gotta worry about him getting himself killed in some war zone. Remember when the two of us were kids an' he would always say he was gonna follow in his Pop's footsteps one day? I hated hearin' that kinda talk but it was always ok cos I told myself it was never gonna happen. It was just a pipe dream. He asked me on his last birthday if I thought the war would come over here and I just brushed it off cos I was too fuckin' terrified to think about it.” 

“James-”

“So what am I supposed to do Ma? Either way I look at it, I'm gonna lose my best guy.” Bucky continued defeatedly. He waited for the sense of relief one normally got from spilling ones guts but instead saying it out loud just seemed to make the fear worse.   
“James, whichever way you look at it, it's not going to be easy. When your father announced he was going to war all those years ago I was terrified. But at the same time, I understood that it was something he needed to do and even if you both decide to ignore that, Steve'll be conscripted and he'll have to leave regardless of what you both want.” 

“I love him so much Ma.” Bucky said quietly, wary of any other patrons that could be in the laundromat.   
“I know you do James.” Winifred replied with a wistful sigh. Bucky knew that while his Ma wasn't as opposed to his sexuality as his father was, she would still like to see him settle down with Evie. “It's going to be hard for the both you, being apart, but I know you can both do it.” She offered him a warm smile. “You'll be able to write to each other although I'd recommend, for his safety, that you both come up with a female alias for him to address his letters to. And while he's gone, you'll have me. I may not be able to change your father's mind but I'll be here for you.” 

~*~

Bucky walked through the door later that evening. Steve had spent a fraught couple of hours trying to read but found it was too hard to concentrate. He'd taken to sitting on the creaky window seat simply staring out of the window, just as Bucky had been that afternoon. He felt so torn inside. He had his chance to stand up and fight for something he'd believed in for as long as he could remember. He'd read the newspapers, disgusted at the news that was coming from the European theatres of war and he'd wished that he could do something. Now it was his country that was being attacked and it had further incensed his resolve. He wanted to put on that uniform and pick up his gun and defend his country. It wasn't about attacking and killing for him, it was about defending. He never could stand bullies and to him that's all these people were. 

But when Bucky walked back into the apartment, looking somewhat sheepish, Steve felt his resolve starting to wobble slightly. He knew that with his injuries, there would be no way Bucky would be accepted for the Army. He'd have that '4F' stamped on his form in no time and they would be forced apart by circumstances. Guilt sat in the pit of his stomach as he thought of leaving Bucky behind to struggle with his new disability. He could see him struggling to pay the rent, to buy food and without his parents to fall back on, where would he go? It made him sick to think about it.   
“Stevie, we gotta talk.”   
Steve nodded in agreement and allowed Bucky to lead them both over to their old sofa. They'd brought it in off the street late one night. It had been abandoned but still seemed to be in decent condition. Steve could remember how much they'd laughed and teased each other as they'd hauled it up the flights of stairs and into their apartment before collapsing on it together amid touches and kisses. Compared to what they were going through now, things had seemed so much simpler back then. As they sat down, Bucky began to speak.  
“I'm sorry for before.” He started, shamefaced. “I just-I didn't...I was” Steve opened his mouth but Bucky held up his good hand. “I was terrified. Always have been since you said you wanted to be a soldier but it was ok cos I thought it was never gonna happen and now it has an' I don't want you to go cos I don't wanna lose you and I know you wanna go cos it's your destiny an' all but you're worried about me but you don't need to be.” It all came out in a gabbled rush, not the carefully thought out rehearsed speech he'd had in mind and had planned all the way back to the apartment. Steve blinked at him, obviously trying his best to take in such a large amount of information in a short amount of time. He took Bucky's good hand with one hand and stroked a thumb down his cheek with the other.   
“I'm scared too Buck.” He admitted. “'bout a lot of things. Goin' to war. Leavin' you behind. Been fightin' with myself since I heard that radio broadcast. An' I've been doin' a lot of thinkin' while you were out. There are different ways of fightin' the war. Doesn't have to be the frontlines.” He explained, his expression earnest. “There's plenty of stuff I could be doin' right here.” 

“What? Like collectin' scrap metal in a little red wagon?” Bucky snorted. He shook his head. “No Stevie. That ain't you. You gotta enlist. I talked to my Ma and she went through the same thing. You gotta enlist and you gotta get out there an' fight cos that's what you've always wanted to do. I ain't gonna stand in the way of your destiny just as you'd no more stand in the way of mine, whatever that is.” He took a deep breath. “I stopped by Syd's on the way home. Spoke to him an' he said that he's lookin' for someone to help him do his accounts. Said he could think of no-one better. It ain't great pay but it means I won't starve. I'll be able to keep this place, pay the bills and” He swallowed hard. “Have it waitin' for you when you come back.” 

“I don't know what to say.” Steve replied. In one way, a great weight had been lifted. Bucky had a job and it meant that he wouldn't have to worry about how his boyfriend would cope if he left. Hearing Bucky talk about enlisting made it all the more real. For the first time since they'd met they were going to be parted and while it was for a noble cause, it still meant prolonged absence from the person he loved most in the world.   
“We can write to each other.” Bucky continued, almost as if he'd sensed what Steve was feeling. It wouldn't have at all surprised Steve if he had. “Ma says we'll hafta think of a girl's name for me though, y'know, just in case.” 

Steve smiled slightly at the look on Bucky's face. They could have some fun picking out a suitable girl's name but it was beginning to hit exactly what enlistment would mean for them both.   
“It's ok to be scared Stevie.” Bucky said gently, gripping Steve's hand tighter. “This is a temporary thing.”   
Steve found himself nodding wondering whether Bucky really believed what he saying. For the first time since the radio broadcast, Steve was beginning to feel fear. They both knew what going to war meant. Some guys came back and others, like his father, never did. Sooner rather than later, Steve would be shipped off to some part of Europe and they would have no way of knowing whether or not their last goodbye would be their final goodbye. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around Bucky and felt Bucky's right arm snake around him and grip back in return. 

~*~

Two days later and Steve and Bucky were headed to their local enlistment centre. Mr Collins had given Steve the day off, telling him that if he could, he'd be right there with him. He'd called Steve a 'dear brave young lad' and had even given him a bottle of beer as a token of his esteem. Steve had wanted them to walk there seperately so as not to arouse suspicion but Bucky had refused, telling him that it wasn't exactly out of the ordinary to see two guys headed for enlistment. Steve had conceded but he still felt a little edgy walking there even so. If he was honest with himself, he'd felt edgy ever since he and Bucky had agreed to proceed with his enlistment. Actually going there made it all seem very real. He didn't want to admit it to his boyfriend but aside from the need to do his duty, the whole idea of going to war scared him. He was pretty sure he didn't know how to BE without Bucky. 

There was a strange atmosphere inside the centre. They were led into a small room filled with men of all shapes and sizes, sitting on rows of wooden benches. There was an official looking man sitting at a desk taking details from the men who had formed a queue in front of it. After signing something, they took a seat on one of the benches and waited to be called to one of three small, curtained off cubicles by a man in a white coat, obviously a doctor. What made the atmosphere so strange was how quiet it was save for the murmurs from the man at the desk and one of the white-coated men calling out a name every so often. It reminded Bucky of being in a library or a classroom where no-one dare speak above a whisper. Those that were speaking to each other were mumbling, making it impossible to pick up any snatches of conversation. Others were hidden behind newspapers, the headlines screaming the latest atrocities from the front lines. Bucky noticed that some of the papers were being held in  
tight, white-knuckled grips. Others were trembling slightly. Some men were staring into space, lost in their own thoughts whilst others stared around the room obviously looking for something to distract them from their thoughts.

“Buck.” Steve's voice shook him from his reverie. The younger man nodded towards the queue and made to join it. For some bizarre reason, that made Bucky feel like he should too although with a barely functioning arm, he knew it would be pointless. If anything, being in this room, surrounded by so many men his age who were prepared to go away and fight, made his arm seem all the more heavier. A dead weight against him, the constant, dull throb reminding him that he couldn't do his bit, that he couldn't fight alongside his boyfriend. That he wouldn't be able to protect him. He noticed that some of the waiting men were beginning to stare at him, obviously wondering why he wasn't getting in the queue beside his friend. 

When they'd arrived at the centre, they'd been told about a waiting room for friends and family. Unable to stand the stares any longer, Bucky tapped Steve on the shoulder.  
“I'll be in the waitin' room.” He said quickly. Leaving Steve no time to argue, he turned on his heel and made for the exit.

~*~

The waiting room had been even worse. It was filled entirely with women. Some had been crying discreetly into handkercheifs. Others had been crying openly whilst the rest around them stared at their shoes pretending not to notice. Feeling as though his chest was going to explode from the sudden feeling of claustrophobia, Bucky ran out into the street. He fumbled in his old coat pocket for a cigarette. He'd decided to treat himself to a pack after his job news. He stuck the white stick in his mouth then quickly lit it. Savouring the taste of the cigarette, he leant on the brick wall behind him, crumpling the 'America needs you!' poster that had been pasted onto it. He closed his eyes and allowed the mechanical action of smoking to soothe his jangled nerves.   
“Busy in there no?” A voice suddenly spoke. Bucky opened his eyes and found himself looking at a man who must've been at least in his sixties. He had slightly wild looking white hair that gave him the look of some sort of mad professor. Round, wire-framed glasses were perched on the end of his nose as he stared at Bucky searchingly.   
“Yeah I guess.” Bucky replied with a shrug. 

“Enlisting?” The man asked. He spoke with a strange accent that Bucky couldn't quite place. It sounded European, definitely not local. Whilst the man had enquired in a perfectly friendly way, Bucky couldn't help but feel like he was being judged by this rather odd stranger.   
“Does it look like I am?” He replied peevishly, nodding at his hanging arm. 

“Why are you here?” The man continued, obviously not put off by Bucky's attitude. Bucky took another puff from his cigarette and sighed.   
“Why are you.” He demanded. “No offence but you don't look like you'd meet the age requirements.” He could almost hear Steve's nagging tone at that. There'd been countless times in the past that Bucky's mouth had gotten them both into trouble. The man however, didn't seem at all fazed.

“You don't have full use of your arm?” 

“Y'know, you ask some pretty personal questions for a guy I met twenty seconds ago.” Bucky said. “What's it to you anyway?” 

The man didn't have a chance to answer as Steve stepped out of the enlistment centre.   
“Bucky! Been lookin' for you. You weren't in the waitin' room.” He said, approaching Bucky with a concerned look on his face.   
“Yeah, sorry Stevie, got the craving.” Bucky replied jokingly, holding up his cigarette. He offered his boyfriend a smile. “So, you all enlisted.” 

“Yeah.” Steve said, beaming. “Just gotta wait for my orders to come through.” He added. He looked immensely proud of himself and although he was terrified, Bucky couldn't help but feel a little pride that his boyfriend was finally going to get to fulfil his dream.   
“Well then let's get celebratin'!” Bucky announced, tossing his cigarette to the ground and throwing his arms out. “Let's go to Syd's. I'm sure we'll be able to convince Syd himself to give our new hero a free drink or two.” 

~*~

By the time they returned to the apartment that night, it was almost midnight. Syd had been generous with the free drinks and they'd manage to celebrate Steve's enlistment in style. Steve had headed straight to bed and was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Bucky had tried his best to follow suit but he stayed wide awake. 

He lay there for an hour or so before resigning to his fate and getting up. Taking care not to disturb Steve, he grabbed an old sweater and his cigarettes and slipped out of the window that led to the fire escape. He reached the roof and sat down in their favourite spot. He lit a cigarette and stared out at the landscape. Most of the lights in the neighbouring apartment buildings had been extinguished apart from the one or two obvious night owls. Bucky wondered how many of them contained future soldiers. How many men had returned home that night to tell their loved ones that they'd be leaving soon to fight in the war. He wondered how many death sentences that totalled. How many of those men wouldn't be coming back. He avoided the newspapers like the plague. Since Pearl Harbor they were filled with horror stories from the front lines, detailed accounts of the actrocities of the war. Things that would soon be Steve's every day reality. How was he supposed to pretend that he supported Steve's decision to basically sign his life away? The whole time they'd been at the bar, he'd felt so damn numb inside as he watched various people clap Steve on the back and declare him brave for enlisting. And how many times had he heard those people say that Steve was doing the right thing? It made him sick to his stomach.   
“Bucky?”   
Bucky closed his eyes and cursed silently as Steve appeared at the top of the fire escape. He was wearing the sweater his Ma had knitted for him the previous Christmas. It was an interesting design to say the least, mainly blue but decorated with knitted red and white stars. Steve had loved it on sight.   
“Hey Stevie.” Bucky greeted him as if sitting on the roof of their apartment building in the early hours of the morning during winter was a perfectly normal thing to do.   
“Whatcha doin' up here?” 

“Thinkin'.” Bucky answered honestly as Steve sat down beside him. He waits for Steve to ask what about but his boyfriend is silent, obviously waiting. There was so much that Bucky wanted to tell him, so much he wanted to talk about. In weeks since his accident he'd never spoken about it. Never told anyone how useless he feels because he's only got one working arm. He'd never opened up to Steve and told him that he no longer felt like himself any more. The old Bucky Barnes, the one who liked flirting and dancing and playing music seemed so far away from him that he almost feels like a shell of person. He took a shaky drag of his cigarette. The words were there but he couldn't quite make himself say them. He'd been using Steve's impending enlistment as a reason not to think about his disability but the visit to the enlistment centre had shaken him. Seeing all those fit, eligible men staring at him, muttering to one another about him and then that strange old man asking him about his arm had all brought it home to him in the most painful way possible. He wasn't like those men any more. He never would be again.   
“I'm a cripple Steve.” The last time he'd said that word, he'd been suffused with anger but now all he could feel was sadness. Unable to meet his boyfriend's eyes, he looked at the piles of pigeon shit in front of him as if they were suddenly the most interesting things he'd ever seen. He took a deep breath and spoke again. “You'd think me not bein' able to play the piano would be the biggest kick in the head but it ain't Stevie. It's...I can't protect you any more. Can't fight by your side like I should. I love you so fuckin' much and I feel like nobody if I can't be your Bucky.” 

“You're more than my protection Buck.” Steve replied. “So much more. And You will always be my Bucky. Don't you understand? Nothing will make you any less. Nothing” Before Bucky could argue, Steve grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in for an almost bruising kiss. “Nothing.” He whispered intensely when they eventually broke apart.

“I love you Stevie.” Bucky said breathlessly. “So fuckin' much. Promise me you'll come back.” 

Steve knew he couldn't promise. Not really. He knew what going to war could mean for him. He knew what war had meant for his father. But right now he figured telling a white lie for his boyfriend who really needed it was for the best.   
“I'll come back Buck. I promise.” 

~*~

Two weeks passed and the news from the front lines kept pouring in. It further incensed Steve's resolve to fight and he and Mr Collins spent a lot of time in the store talking about the latest articles they'd read in the paper, shaking their heads at each atrocity. Mr Collins had done his best and given Steve as many hours as he could afford to ensure that Steve could leave a nice amount of money behind to help Bucky out. 

Bucky meanwhile had started back at Syd's. His job was to sit in the office and make sure the accounts were up to scratch. It was a boring job which Bucky found easy and, he supposed, it was a way for him to earn money and it was less of a worry for Steve. He felt as though they were living on a knife edge, waiting for that letter that would contain Steve's orders to report to basic training. Steve didn't talk about it, aside from sharing his disgust at the latest war news, so Bucky followed suit. If they didn't talk about it, it would be a hell of a lot easier for them both to pretend that it wasn't really happening. Their current equilibrium was shaky at best but now they were both earning money, things were slowly getting back to how they used to be, before the war, before the accident. Bucky still struggled with his disability but Steve was always there with kisses and reassurances since they'd talked it out on the rooftop. It was going to make it even harder when...

Bucky refused to let himself think about it. Instead he decided to focus on what he was going to cook for dinner tonight. The extra money they had meant that they had more of an opportunity to splash out every few days on something particularly good for dinner. They took turns cooking and whilst Steve's efforts had left a lot to be desired, Bucky had discovered a flair for it. As soon as his day at Syd's was over, Bucky headed back to the apartment to check what ingredients they already had before he bought anything new. Steve still had another couple of hours left at the store so Bucky figured in that time he could come up with something pretty damn delicious. 

He grabbed the mail from their box as soon as he entered the apartment building and rushed up the stairs, shuffling the various envelopes as he did so. He smiled when he recognised one which was written in his Ma's handwriting. She'd been writing to him regularly since their talk in the laundromat and sometimes she managed to include one of Becca's drawings. Bucky treasured each one of her artistic efforts and made sure to pin them up on the lounge wall. The letters from his Ma were kept safely in an old shoebox under their bed which also contained Steve's old birthday cards, letters and mementos of Sarah. Sometimes Steve would pull out the box and slowly sort through them as Bucky held him tight. They both still missed her a great deal and looking through those pieces of card and paper bearing her writing made it a little easier. Her writing was so lively that it was hard to imagine that she wouldn't write anything ever again. He distracted himself from this depressing train of thought by turning his attention back to the handful of envelopes. As well as the letter from his Ma, there were a couple of bills and a funny postcard from William the bartender, who was currently visiting family in Chicago. He too had enlisted and had opted to spend some time with his family before his draft notice arrived. 

The final envelope in the bunch made Bucky stop in his tracks. It was brown and had the words 'Selective Service Official Business' printed on it in grey type. It also bore Steve's name. 

His drafting notice. 

~*~

It was raining heavily by the time Steve's shift at the store finished. He'd helped Mr Collins check their final delivery of the day before they'd locked up the store. Mr Collins bade him farewell and hurriedly made his way through the deluge towards his apartment building. Steve was about to do the same when he noticed Bucky standing on the opposite side of the street. He wasn't carrying an umbrella and his dark hair was plastered to his head. His jacket looked soaked through and the rainwater had crawled almost halfway up his pant leg. His face looked grim.  
“Buck? What on earth are you doin' out here?” Steve asked as he ran across the road to greet him. 

Bucky didn't say anything. He just handed Steve the brown envelope. Steve noticed that his boyfriend's hand was trembling slightly as he did so. Steve looked down at the envelope and he felt the blood drain from his face. 

~*~

Tomorrow. 

The date was there in black and white. Steve had opened the letter with an increasing feeling of dread. The moment they'd both desperately tried to avoid talking about was finally here. He was to report to basic training first thing the following morning. They made their way back to the apartment in silence. Both of them wanted to say so much and yet couldn't find the right words. The reality that they'd tried their level best to ignore over the past couple of weeks had landed on them so heavily it felt as though they'd both been sent reeling. 

Back in the safety of the apartment, they'd fallen into each other's arms without even taking the time to get out of their wet clothes. They clung onto each other tightly, feeling each other's body heat and gripping as tight as they both dare without causing bruises. Once again they were struck dumb by circumstances, unable to vocalise what they were both feeling. Bucky's heart felt like a peach stone. What if this was it? What if this was the last time they would hold each other? They were perfect for each other, a love running deeper than any he'd ever known and it could easily be about to cut short by something out of their control. This could be the last night of their lives. 

Steve buried his face in the crook of Bucky's neck, breathing in that all-so-familiar scent that was his home. He wondered if he would be able to recall that smell on the battlefield or in his tent on a night amongst the stench of war. There was so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to see, all those sights from their childhood like living photographs. Coney Island, the school where they'd met, even the alleyways where Bucky had come to his rescue all those times he'd gotten in over his head when he'd let his mouth run away with him. Yet, at the same time, none of those places really mattered because the person who'd made them so special, was right here in his arms. He didn't want to go anywhere that meant they might have to spend a second apart on their last night together.   
“Hey Stevie?” Bucky's voice reverberated against his chest and for a second, Steve savoured what they felt like before replying.  
“Yeah?”

“You want this dance?” Bucky asked, moving away from their embrace. Steve looked at his boyfriend, confused for a moment, until Bucky held out his hand. Steve took it and felt Bucky's grip tighten. Without being told, Steve pressed his body against his boyfriend's as they slowly started to sway together. Bucky started to hum quietly, a song that Steve recognised instantly, Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller. It was a hopelessly romantic tune that had been popular in Syd's for the couples. Yet Bucky had never danced to it with any of the dames who'd caught his eye in the old days. He always made sure to sit it out and Steve had never understood why. Now though, as the slowly moved together across their dusty old floor, he understood perfectly.   
“You wanted this dance for a long time didn't you?” He said quietly as Bucky continued to hum the tune. He felt Bucky nod.   
“It was always ours Stevie. Even though this is the first time.” Bucky replied. The voice in his head screamed at him to add 'and maybe the last time' but Bucky continued to hum the tune, wondering why it had taken him so damn long to ask Steve for a dance. It felt so different to any dance with a dame. It was right. It was perfect and it was something he would always remember.   
“Buck? I want to paint you.” Steve spoke suddenly. Bucky stopped humming and looked up at his boyfriend curiously. Steve hadn't so much as touched a sketchbook since that terrible night where he'd packed Bucky's things. Bucky didn't exactly know what happened to Steve's pictures but they'd all been removed and Steve had packed away his paints and brushes. He wasn't sure if it was some sort of self induced punishment for him. Perhaps he thought that if Bucky couldn't play, he shouldn't paint. Whatever the reason, it was good to hear him talk about painting now. “An' I'm not talkin' about a picture. I wanna paint YOU Buck. Every inch of you. Make you every bit as beautiful as you are.” He continued, his blue eyes shining with desire. Bucky didn't know what to say. He felt his breath catch in his chest. He hadn't been naked around Steve since his attack but who was he to deny his love tonight of all nights? He nodded his agreement, feeling a strange mixture of terror and anticipation. 

“Bed-bedroom.” Steve said, licking his lips. “Go. I'll get my paints.” He added, not taking his eyes off Bucky until the older man disappeared in the direction of their bedroom. He didn't move until he heard the familiar squeak of their mattress. The noise in the sudden silence of the apartment brought him back to himself somewhat. Steve's mind began to race as he tried to remember where he'd put his paints and his brushes. He'd packed them away in a rush on that night, never wanting to see them again. Despite his self-imposed dry spell, he quickly patted down his pockets. Time was, there'd usually be some kind of brush in there but, obviously, this time he turned up empty. He imagined Bucky waiting for him, laying out on the bed and his breathing began to quicken. 

He looked around frantically, trying to jog his memory. Something glimmered out of the corner of his eye. He stalked quickly over to the trinket and held it for a second before pocketing it. He took a deep breath and suddenly remembered where he'd stashed his art supplies. He hustled to the other side of the room and felt behind their battered sofa for the small wooden box. He pulled it out and wrenched it open before grabbing what he could. His art supplies had dwindled considerably since their money situation had become precarious. All that reminded in the box was a red, a blue and a fancy gold that he'd always used sparingly because that stuff was damn expensive. He remembered Bucky helping him water down the red and blue so that they would last longer. His final pick up was a brush before he headed into the bedroom.

~*~

Steve closed his eyes for a moment before he entered the room's threshold and stopped for a moment to compose himself. This was all he could give to Bucky now. Love, devotion and a promise. Once the sun rose he'd be taking everything away. It would be their last-

No. He stopped himself before his thoughts could take him any further. This wasn't about tomorrow and what it meant. This was about tonight. And Bucky. This wasn't their goodbye. He would come back from the war and they would be together. They would have a future like they were supposed to. They'd always said so. 'Til the end of the line had been their mantra and that line would be a long one. He'd make sure of it. Opening his eyes and squaring his shoulders, Steve pushed open the bedroom door. 

If he didn't know any better, he could've sworn that he'd just walked into heaven because the being on his bed certainly looked like an angel. The soft glow of the street lights through the window illuminated his lover. Transfixing Steve so completely that he dropped his armful of supplies. They clattered to the floor, forgotten.   
“Buck.” Steve said in a voice just above a whisper. Everything he wanted to say suddenly died upon his lips and, as if it were magnetized, his right hand reached out for Bucky's naked body before it froze in place. “I...you...you look...” Steve swallowed visibly. “Heavenly...” 

Bucky snorted and shook his head with that trademark grin of his.   
“Heavenly?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “Now I know why you never made it with any of those dames.” He teased. He wondered if his voice sounded as nervous as he felt. He'd spent the last couple of minutes in a tug-of-war with himself. He wanted to make Steve happy but at the same time he was terrified of his boyfriend seeing his naked body. He was all too aware that he was no longer complete. Sure, he'd been 'lucky' enough to keep his left arm. He'd been told at the hospital that that in itself had defied the odds. But as much of a medical marvel as that was, it didn't help him feel any less incomplete. His right hand had shook has he'd struggled to undo the buttons of his shirt. What if Steve entered the room and was disgusted at what he saw? He'd managed to shrug the shirt off eventually, but as he'd laid down on the bed, he couldn't help but try and tuck his left arm away underneath him. Perhaps then it would n't be such a terrible sight for his lover to behold for the first time. 

“No dame has ever looked as sinfully angelic as you do right now.” Steve said, his voice rough. He felt as if he'd been walking in an endless desert and Bucky was a glass of water. He was everything he needed and everything he could ever want. The voice sprung back to life, 'and you're giving it all up' it taunted. Steve blinked that thought away quickly He refused to let it take him under. Bucky already seemed to be on edge. If Steve let the thought take him it would only make his lover worry even more than he probably already was. He'd known Bucky long enough to know when the older man was putting on a show. That wasn't entirely his smile, it wasn't the wholehearted laughing joy that Steve loved so much. Behind the smile, Bucky looked terrified, like a kitten left out in the rain. 

Steve sighed and, without taking his eyes off Bucky, bent down to retrieve his fallen art materials. It proved somewhat difficult to do. He let out an exasperated sound and turned his attention to the floor. As soon as he reclaimed his paints and brush, he smiled at Bucky once more.   
“Lay on your back Buck.” Steve said as he deposited the paints on the bedside table. He crawled onto the bed so that he could lean over Bucky's torso comfortably. 

Bucky's breath hitched as he slowly turned onto his back. He closed his eyes so that he didn't have to see Steve's reaction to his injured arm. He didn't want Steve to have to try and mask his disgust quickly. The arm was a tangle of scars, some from the boots of his attackers, others from the surgery he'd needed to try and put the arm back together again. Some were still an angry pink, some were smooth, others were hypertrophic . It looked a mess and Bucky didn't need to see Steve's first reaction. Besides, if he kept his eyes closed then it made it much easier to pretend things were the way they used to be before the attack, when he was still whole.

Steve nibbled his lower lip. Bucky was so god damn magnificent. After everything they'd been through over the past few weeks, it felt so good to be just the two of them together, Bucky's beautiful body laid out beneath him. It was like coming home. All the things he remembered were still there and, just like he'd always been, his lover was still so fucking perfect. With a smile, Steve popped the caps off the paints and licked the tip of the brush. Once it was damp enough for his satisfaction, he started with the gold paint.  
“Keep those eyes closed for me Buck.” As he dipped the damp-tipped brush into the gold paint. Momentary panic flitted across his chest. What was he even doing? Bucky was far greater, far more beautiful than anything he could ever paint- 

But he had to. He needed to. Bucky needed this. He slowly drew the paint-laden brush up Bucky's jawline, from his chin to his ear.   
“S'cold.” Bucky whispered. “Feels weird.” His eyes were closed tight. At those words, Steve lifted the brush, hesitating.  
“You want me to stop?”

“N..no...don't.” Bucky wondered if Steve could hear just how much his heart was hammering against his chest. It was terrifying being this exposed around someone again but Bucky knew there was nobody else in the whole damn world he'd rather be doing this with. He wondered if Steve could tell just how much he needed this. 

Steve couldn't hold back his sigh of relief at hearing those words, and the small laugh that came along with it. Bucky was going to let him do this. Bucky wanted him to do this. Steve couldn't have been any happier. His lover would be his greatest work of art, just for one night. Bustling with renewed vigour, Steve put down his paintbrush and doused his index and middle fingers with the blue paint. He started at Bucky's chin, rough with stubble, then slowly drew a thick line down the centre of his neck, stopping only once to re-coat his blue fingers, straight to Bucky's clavicle. At this touch, Bucky's breath hitched in his throat. God how he'd missed these touches. They were like water for a dying man. He let out the smallest of moans as he felt his boyfriend's fingers brush over his clavicle. It had always been his sensitive spot, his Achilles Heel, and going so long without Steve's touch only served to heighten the sensation. 

Steve stuck his tongue out in concentration. Had he just heard a moan? He wondered absently as he loaded his fingers with more of the blue paint. He painted small circles, resembling vines from the centre of Bucky's clavicle to the top of his right shoulder. He took a breath and then did the same crawling vine to Bucky's left shoulder. Bucky tensed instantly as soon as Steve's fingers made contact with his left shoulder. Steve moved his hand as if he'd been burned.  
“Bucky.” Steve whispered harshly. “Did-did I hurt you?” He checked his lover for any visible signs of pain. His heart started to race in fear. 

“No.” Bucky said, eyes still closed, as he tried to control his growing anxiety. “Doesn't hurt...s'just...the arm...” He paused for a moment, fighting an internal battle, before finishing in a small voice. “S'horrible Stevie.” 

“No. Nothing that is a part of you could ever be horrible.” Steve replied. “An' I'll prove it to you.” He took his precious gold paint and emptied half of it into his palm. He grasped Bucky's left arm gently and slide his paint-covered hand down the length of it. Steve worked quickly to spread the paint as much as he could before it started to dry. Soon, Bucky's entire left arm sparkled with a thin golden hue. Steve wiped his palms on his trousers and reached for the blue paint again, doing exactly the same to Bucky's right arm, only this time in blue.   
“Can I open my eyes yet?” Bucky asked. Part of him wanted to see what these strange new sensations looked like and yet, another part of him wanted to continue just feeling them. 

“Hm? No, not yet.” Steve replied, fully concentrating on his work of art that lay before him. Steve took the remainder of the blue paint, and the remainder of the gold, and emptied them both onto Bucky's chest. There, he extended the colours to match their respective arms. He swirled them together on the centre of Bucky's muscular chest, making a beautiful glittery green. After making sure the paint had dried slightly, Steve then turned his attention to the red paint. He picked up the brush again and very slowly began drawing red stars in the sea of green. After he was satisfied with the amount of red stars, he took a deep breath and quickly wrote the words 'say yes' on Bucky's stomach, just above his navel.   
“Ok, hate the break your artistic concentration here Stevie, but that tickles.” Bucky said as his felt the brushstrokes around the sensitive skin of his navel. 

“Bet it does.” Steve replied with a laugh. He put the brush down on the bedside table and nervously reached for his pocket. “Buck, you know that I love you, always have, always will.” He closed his hand around the trinket, hoping that it would give him courage, and slowly withdrew it from his pocket. “I know that I'll be gone once the sun comes up, but until it does, I'm yours. Now, I know this is askin' a lot, but I gotta say it.” 

“Say what Stevie?” Bucky asked. All of a sudden his skin was all over goosebumps. 

“My Ma waited so long for my Pa to come home, but she never, ever gave up on him. She stayed true to her heart. Will you, James Buchanan Barnes, will you stay true for me?” 

“You know I will Stevie.” Bucky answered, not missing a beat. It wasn't a question. It never had been. They were BuckyandSteve. Til the end of the line. “But you're talkin' like you're dyin' or somethin'...like you ain't comin' back.” 

“Dammit. I'm not-not trying to-open your eyes Buck.” Steve replied shakily. He held out the ring.   
Bucky opened his eyes slowly, wondering how he'd be able to keep his cool if he saw Steve crying. Instead, he found himself staring at a ring.   
“Stevie?”

“I love you and I want you to know that. This is a promise that I'm making to you. I'll come back. I'll do this proper. I just couldn't leave without-without knowing that I had someone to come home to. Some to fight for. Someone to talk about around the campfire even if I do hafta call you a woman's name.” Steve quickly set the ring on the bedside table. Clearly he'd made a mess of things. He hadn't planned this well at all. Bucky looked utterly terrified. What the hell was he thinking of? Proposing like some lovesick idiot? Steve shook his head at his own idiocy and slowly rose to his feet. “Sorry Bucky. I guess I just got caught up in the moment. I thought that-”  
Bucky grabbed Steve's arm, hauling him back onto the bed and anchoring him there in case he tried to make another dumb escape. It briefly occurred to him that his right arm was bright blue, but he dismissed that quickly.   
“Yes.” He said simply. “Yes Steven Grant Rogers you fuckin' punk. I'll marry you.”   
Feeling suddenly disoriented and euphoric, Steve did the first thing he could think of, he pressed his lips hard to Bucky's. 

Bucky kissed back just as hard, trying to send all of his love and reassurance through a simple kiss. He broke it breathlessly and reached for the ring, slipping it onto his finger. It was a bit of a tight fit, but that didn't matter right now. He took hold of Steve's hand.  
“I'm never gonna take this off Stevie. Not til you come back. I promise.” 

Steve couldn't hold back his emotions any more. As the tears began to fall, he nuzzled his face into the crook of Bucky's neck. It was probably smearing the paint but Steve didn't care. Bucky was his. He always would be his. Just as much as he would always belong to Bucky. 

 

~*~

Morning came much quicker than either of them wanted. If they could've stopped time and let the night go on forever they would've done. After the emotion of the painting session and Steve's heartfelt proposal, they'd collapsed onto the sheets and, spurred on by Steve's sweet words, Bucky had entangled his limbs with his boyfriend's. Bucky was still covered in the paint and he'd declared, much to Steve's amusement, that he was 'never gonna wash it off!'.

They knew they should sleep but they both wanted to savour the night for as long as time would allow them. So instead of sleeping, they'd spent the night reminiscing. They'd laughed like drains, snorting and poking at each other as they recalled those long ago school days when they'd somehow managed to cause a hell of a lot of trouble without even trying. They grinned when they remembered how they'd gotten the better of Stuart Atkins, the worst of the school bullies and how, after that day, he'd never given them an ounce of trouble again. They teased each over about cheating on tests and who had copied from who. 

They'd shared a delightful half hour selecting a female alias for Steve to address his letters to. Teasing each other until their sides ached with laughter. They'd quickly moved on from the subject before they could think about what choosing the name really meant. 

Steve spoke a lot about his Ma and the things she liked to do. Bucky joined in, sharing his particular favourites recipes of hers and how she used to tuck them up in the same bed when they both came down with a cold or the chickenpox. They'd both driven her crazy but she'd been on hand with hot drinks and fairy stories until they'd felt better. They'd carefully avoided talking about Bucky's family and his attack and they'd artfully dodged around the fact that both of them feared that tonight could be their last night together. Eventually, the talking had died away and they'd just been content to lie in each other's arms and wait for the sun to rise. Steve's fingers traced the lines of Bucky's face and Bucky's hand had moved along the peaks and troughs of Steve's body. Wordlessly, they'd taken turns to lay on each other's chest and listen to the other's heartbeat, committing it to memory. They'd kissed, slowly and lazily and both of them had taken the time to appreciate the smell and taste of the other man. 

Dawn broke and Steve's little alarm clock trilled. It was a cruel sound, like the slow toll of a funeral bell. Steve had slowly peeled himself away from Bucky and started to pack a few things in his small travelling case whilst Bucky looked on sadly. He threw a few clothes in as well as his flannel and toothbrush. He longed to take a photo of Bucky but they'd all been destroyed when Steve had tried to purge the apartment after Bucky's attack. He sighed, cursing himself for not saving at least one. After all, it was tradition for a soldier to carry a photo of his sweetheart into war. 

Suddenly, something was pressed into his hands. Steve looked down to see the white vest Bucky loved to sleep in.   
“Take it.” Bucky said, biting his bottom lip. It looked as if he was doing everything in his power not to burst into tears. Steve stared at the white material, soft and pilled with age. It was better than any photograph. If he wanted to see Bucky he would just need to close his eyes and his mind's eye would provide him with endless mental pictures of Bucky that he'd taken over the years. The vest felt like it was an actual part of his boyfriend. It would smell like him and Steve could wear it underneath his uniform. He folded it up carefully and placed it in his case. 

Once the packing was done, there was nothing left to do but face the fact that he needed to head to the train station. Although they hadn't discussed it, they both knew that Bucky accompanying him would be an impossibility. It would raise even more suspicion that they already had and whilst Steve would be leaving, Bucky would be left behind to deal with fallout should anyone see them and decided to take it the wrong way. Steve stood in his best shirt and pants, his case by his feet, suddenly feeling like a lost child. 

The voice in his head revved up, its words even more vitriolic than the previous night. This was it. This was their final goodbye. He would never walk into this apartment again, he would never feel those arms around him, kiss those beautiful lips. Never again would he see that face that was his safety, his protection, his home.   
“I'll try not to wreck the place while you're gone.” Bucky said. “Don't want you naggin' me when you come back to a mess.” He added. Steve nodded. He knew what Bucky was really saying to him. It was their strange sixth sense again. He didn't want Steve acting or thinking like he was never going to come back.   
“I best head off.” Steve replied flatly. His train was due soon and he figured it wouldn't make the best impression if he turned up to basic training late. He picked up his case but made no attempts to move from the spot.   
“Best get movin' ya big lug.” Bucky said. He threw back the covers and stood up. He grabbed Steve and pulled him close, breathing in that heady scene one more time. “I love you Stevie. Don't you forget that.” 

“Never Buck. Til the end of the line remember?” 

“End of the line.” Bucky repeated. “Now go on. You got a war to win.” He added stoically. He picked up Steve's case and put it in his hands. They shared a kiss.   
“Don't do anythin' stupid while I'm gone.” Steve said when they broke apart. 

“How can I ya punk? You're takin' all the stupid with you.” Bucky teased, giving his boyfriend a mock salute. 

They walked to the front door together and shared one more kiss before Bucky finally managed to hustle Steve out of the door. He raced to the window and waited. Steve appeared in the Steve a minute or two later. He took a few steps before turning around and looking up. He offered Bucky a salute before turning back and walking away down the street. Bucky watched him go, fiddling with the ring around his finger, and wondered what the hell he was going to do now.

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously our story doesn't end here! There is a sequel incoming! 
> 
> As always, you can come and talk to me on tumblr. My user name is Mr-Barnes-If-Ya-Nasty. Come and say hi!


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